


Interruptus

by Elisabeth Hurst (Leela), jo rittenhouse (batdina)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-25
Updated: 2009-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/pseuds/Elisabeth%20Hurst, https://archiveofourown.org/users/batdina/pseuds/jo%20rittenhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder and Skinner meet in their usual motel to exchange some information, enjoy a little downtime together, and... well, the other motel guests don't have a lot of respect for their needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interruptus

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in 1998.
> 
> Beta(s): various folks from musk-slash.
> 
> This story was inspired by a mercifully brief stay at a motel near SeaTac airport.

> To: handsome@LGM.org  
> From: mulderfw@fbi.gov  
> Subject: Where is it this time!
> 
> Hey guys, could you give me a little warning next time you decide to change the dns AGAIN! I have mail waiting for me and I can't get to it. Call me. E-mail me. Do whatever you have to do. But get it to me tonight.
> 
> Mulder
> 
> * * *
> 
> To: fmluder@lgm.org  
> From: walterss@prontomail.com  
> Subject: a little something
> 
> Let me know where and when to meet.
> 
> Walt
> 
> * * *
> 
> To: walterss@prontomail.com  
> From: fmluder@lgm.org  
> Subject: Re: a little something
> 
> Tomorrow night. Same time. Same place. I'll bring the food.
> 
> Mulder
> 
> * * *
> 
>   
> 

_Annapolis, Maryland_

Walter stared at the tv screen. One of these days, he was going to pick the winning team, but obviously not today. He reached over to where the remote was glued into a swivel holder and nailed to the bedside table. He aimed it at the television and idly changed channels, settling on the McNeil Lehrer News Hour. He hit mute and lay back against the pillows.

The sound of a boot hitting the door roused him out of a half sleep. He crouched down and looked out the peephole, _who designed these motels anyway? midgets?_, at a violence-inducing patterned tie. He opened the door and yanked Mulder into the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Is there some reason we come _here_ again and again?" Skinner muttered, taking one last look out the curtains before shutting them into the room for the night. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the remarkable resemblance the desk clerk bears to Frohike, would it?"

"It's his sister and yes," stated Mulder. "She lets him sweep this room before we use it, every single time. Hungry?"

Skinner scowled at the red and white bucket. "Okay. I'll give you the hotel room. But can't we eat real food once in a while. That stuff might smell good, but the taste doesn't live up to its billing. And remember what happened last time?" Skinner closed his eyes against the memories. He didn't want to go there. It was just too gross.

"Oh ye of little faith." Mulder put the bucket on the table and tossed his trenchcoat over the chair. His shoes landed on top of Skinner's in a shower of raindrops. "So. Where is it?"

Walter pulled a slim file folder out of his briefcase. "Here. I thought you'd be interested in these. They were taken during a regular surveillance run."

Mulder opened the folder and flipped through the photographs. He sat down on the bed and went through them again. And again. Finally he looked up at Walter. "I know this neighbourhood. When were they taken?"

"Last week."

Mulder slid the photos back into the file and put it on the dresser by the television. He picked up the bucket and took off the lid. The scent of fried chicken wafted through the air. "Food?"

"Sure." Skinner grumbled. "But next time _I_ get to choose the food, okay?"

Mulder shrugged. "Okay, but if that's the case, these are mine." He lifted fresh buns and brie out from under the lone drumstick, then placed a chilled bunch of white grapes on the table next to them. He smirked and held out the chicken. "You can have the drumstick."

Skinner took off his glasses, stared through them and put them back on his nose. A grin spread over his face. He pounced, grabbing Mulder around the waist and toppling both of them onto the bed, landing squarely on top of Mulder, whose only response was an "oof", as the breath was knocked from his lungs. After a brief pause, during which Skinner was unable to decide if he should move or apologise, Mulder grabbed him around the shoulders and rolled them both over and sat up, using his knees to pin Skinner beneath him.

Starting with the collar button, Mulder began carefully to undo Skinner's shirt.

"Why do you still have this one buttoned?" Mulder asked, kissing Skinner's throat, before advancing to the larger buttons set mid-chest. "Seems to me that a wise man undoes this button as soon as the "noose known as tie" has been removed." He gestured to his own shirt, where true to his word, the top buttons were already undone.

"Habit?" muttered Skinner, squirming slightly under the attention of Mulder's tongue on his nipple. "Let me help you with yours," he said, only to find his hand batted away as Mulder made his way further down his chest, using his tongue to clear away the dents left by the now opened buttons.

"Mine," said Mulder. "I have plans for that that don't include your hands, yet." He reached down and unzipped Skinner's slacks, and removed the tails of his shirt at the same time. "Oh yeah. Definitely mine now." Mulder slid his hands beneath Skinner, and lowered his mouth to the other man's navel. "Lift up a bit" he said, and as Skinner did, he lowered the slacks, and snagging his briefs at the same time, assisted their slide under his body, and down Skinner's legs to the floor.

At Skinner's motion toward retrieving them from the floor, Mulder merely grinned. "Leave them there. A little while won't hurt them too terribly much now, will it? Besides, I'm not getting up yet. I'm comfortable here."

And with that, he moved his body lower, and bent his head to Skinner's groin, bumping his nose on the semi-erect organ that rose to meet him. Mulder licked around the head carefully, with all the rapt attention of a child with a melting fudgesicle, and found himself nudged by Skinner's knees.

"You're over-dressed" said Skinner. "Any reason I can't have some fun too?"

Mulder glanced up at his partner. "No, I don't suppose there is really," and stood up and began to remove his shirt, touching himself with his finger tips in the same ways he had just touched Skinner with his tongue. "Like this?" he asked, as he shed his pants and boxers, and crawled back up on top of the larger body.

"Just like that, yes." Walter closed his eyes and surrended himself to the feeling of the other man's mouth, this time allowing himself the pleasure of touching bare skin at the same time. He hardly noticed when Mulder removed his glasses from his nose and put them aside. After all, there was nothing he needed to look at just then, was there?

* * * * *

"What was that?" Mulder lifted his head from Skinner's crotch.

"Does it matter?" Walter asked. "I was rather enjoying myself."

"I think someone's tossing his cookies out there. It's kinda ruining the mood for me. Sorry."

"So, stop listening?"

"I can't." Mulder stood up and moved to the window, ducked and peered out underneath the curtains. "Wow. It's just a kid Walter. Wonder if his parents know or even care where he is."

Walter rolled over and leaned up on an elbow. He cast an appreciative glance at Mulder's backside, now displayed at eye level. "I'm wondering about other things just now."

"What things might those be?" Mulder inquired.

Outside, there was the brief sound of a bottle smashing and then there was silence.

"Come here and I'll show you."

Mulder dropped the curtains and turned around. Realising exactly where Skinner's eyes had been for the past few moments, he leered at Skinner and stretched. His arms went over his head. His spine bowed slightly backward. His ribs were clearly visible. His hips went slightly forward. And his erection stood out and bounced just a little.

Skinner forced out a cough in a failed attempt to cover his sudden intake of breath. Damn, the man was beautiful. He growled, "Get back here."

"How can I resist a request couched in such pretty language," Mulder snickered, then jumped for the bed.

Walter ran his tongue up Mulder's inner thigh, and sniffed appreciatively. He licked the single drop balanced precariously at the tip of Mulder's cock.

"Jesus fucking christ, woman. How stupid can you get?" A man's voice came from the parking lot. "Do I have to do everything?"

The slap reverberated around the motel room. Walter jolted upright and clenched his fists. Standing up, he grabbed his glasses and then strode over to the door and slammed the safety latch back.

"Umm.. Walt. Don't you think you should put some clothes on first?" Mulder smiled. "It's cold out there."

Walter looked down at himself and then grabbed Mulder's trenchcoat. He pulled the coat closed, struggling to fasten the tie. "Fine."

"Not fine." Mulder grabbed his lover's arm. "You know better than this.  
We're not here, remember?"

"What am I supposed to do? Just let him beat her up?"

"No. Let's call 911 and let the experts deal with it." Mulder held out the phone handset.

A door slammed. A car screeched out of the parking lot. Then there was silence.

"Come back to bed. You were in the middle of something I was rather enjoying."

Skinner removed and then tossed the trenchcoat back over the chair and moved over to the bed. "I was, huh?" he smiled slyly. "Give me a minute to remember where we were." He slid his hands over Mulder's chest and then down his groin. "About here?" he asked, and was yanked back down to the mattress.

* * * * *

Mulder grabbed the tube and squeezed lube on his fingers. He rubbed his hands together to warm it, then smoothed it gently on Walter's buttocks. Mulder's fingers made circles and patterns, slowly moving closer to Skinner's rectum. He added more lube to his index finger and toyed with the hole, pushing the finger slightly in and then pulling it out again. In and out. In and out. Again and again. Until Mulder's finger made it in all the way to the first knuckle. He smiled as Skinner arched slightly and tried to push down on the finger. Mulder removed it, then replaced it with two fingers, stretching Skinner a little further. Skinner moaned appreciatively.

Feet pounded down the staircase outside, vibrating the room, the television, the bed. Mulder jumped, his fingers pulling out abruptly. His eyes met Skinner's. First one smiled, then the other. Skinner snorted. Mulder choked. Within seconds they were both lying flat on the bed, laughing and holding their stomachs.

"Think there's any possible way we can get Frohike to sweep a room at the Ambassador next time? That place had its problems but this is ridiculous." Skinner shook his head and started laughing again.

"I can ask. Knowing Frohike, he probably has an account there." Mulder chuckled.

"We've got to do something."

"And I know just what to do." Mulder reached over to the remote and clicked off the "mute" on the television. British accents filled the room. "Hey, I recognise this show. I used to watch it when I was at Oxford."

"What is it?" Skinner squinted at the screen, wondering briefly where his glasses had ended up.

"The Professionals. A British Starsky and Hutch. I had the biggest crush on the guy with the curly hair. " Mulder ran a hand appreciatively down Skinner's leg. "I got over it though."

"And I'm eternally grateful you did." Skinner pulled Mulder closer, kissing him deeply. Mulder's mouth opened, and Skinner's tongue took advantage of the opportunity, skimming teeth, exploring, sliding across Mulder's tongue. Their arms wrapped around each other, Mulder's fingers leaving iridescent trails of lube across Skinner's back. Need took control of Mulder's body; his hips undulated against Skinner's groin. Heat pooled in their bellies, nerves sizzled as Mulder's cock rubbed up and down the length of Skinner's.

Mulder drew away reluctantly, trailing kisses down Skinner's neck and stomach. He licked the pre-cum on Skinner's cock, grinning as it jerked under his tongue. Mulder squeezed more lube on his fingers, then slid a finger into Skinner's rectum. In and out. Waiting patiently until the muscles loosened enough for him to add another finger and another. He kept an eye on Skinner's expression, feeding his own need on the desire and tension building in his lover's body. With a sly grin, Mulder pulled his fingers out and ran them upwards, caressing the the soft, crumpled skin at the base of Skinner's shaft.

"Mulder." Skinner complained, untwisting his hands from the bedcovers. He pushed the words out, slowly and carefully. "What are you waiting for? Christmas?"

"Nope. Hanukah." Mulder teased. He ran a finger up the swollen vein on the outside of Skinner's cock and toyed with the tiny hole at the tip. "I've always wanted to say that."

"Gah." Skinner ground out between his teeth. "Please..."

"Yes?" Mulder stopped what he was doing and sat up attentively.

Skinner squinted at Mulder. He stared at the blurry image for a moment and then grabbed a pillow. He summoned up his best Assistant Director's voice. "Now."

"Now?"

Skinner shifted on the bed, lifting up his hips and shoving the pillow underneath. "Now."

"Oh, yessir." Mulder saluted smartly, not hiding the glee in his voice, and reached for the condom he'd dropped on the bedside table earlier. He ripped open the package with his teeth, tossing the pieces dramatically over his shoulder. Moving slightly to one side, so Skinner had a clear view, Mulder balanced on his knees and stretched langourously. His hands stroked up his chest and then back down to his erection. A smile played around the corners of his mouth as he watched Skinner's eyes narrow, mouth hang open just slightly as if aching to take Mulder's cock into its depths.

Skinner found himself unable to lift his eyes from Mulder's groin. A rare wish for contact lenses and clear sight without glasses whipped through him. But the slightly out of focus vision was enough to make him ache with the need to have Mulder inside him. Skinner had to force himself not to reach for his lover, to move things along faster, as he watched Mulder sway rhythmically. With each unheard beat, he unrolled the latex a tiny bit further. When the condom was in place, Mulder continued to sway, sliding his hand up and down, lavishly coating it with lube.

Releasing a tiny miaou of satisfaction when the condom was in place, Mulder positioned himself between Skinner's legs. Bending down until the tip of his cock bumped the ring of muscle protecting the other man's opening, Mulder laved the length of Skinner's cock with his tongue and briefly took the tip into his mouth. Sucked hard. Once. He loved to do that. Loved to watch Skinner's hips convulse, to feel his erection jump. Pleasuring Skinner was more erotic than Mulder had ever have imagined.

Skinner sighed with loss when Mulder released him, and cool air whispered against his cock. "Tease," he muttered, spreading his legs just a little further apart.

The tip of Mulder's tongue slid out the corner of his mouth as his fingers, slippery with lube, toyed with the fine hairs at the base of Skinner's cock. Tugged on them, on his balls, running his fingers up and around. Skinner groaned and dug his heels into the bed, clenched his fingers in the covers. Mulder slid his fingers further down and into the opening. Mulder's erection strained harder and harder as he made sure Skinner was ready.

Skinner's patience was at an end. When Mulder's fingers were replaced with his cock, Skinner wrapped his legs around Mulder's waist and flexed well-toned muscles, pulling Mulder inside. A brief flash of pain then ecstasy as Mulder moved inside him.

Mulder's head went back, exposing his neck. Lost in the wonder, the pleasure, the trust. His hands held on to Skinner's hips, steadying himself as he rotated his own hips each time he pushed back into Skinner. Aiming carefully. Stroking against Skinner's prostate. Over and over. His pubic hairs lightly scraping Skinner's balls. Soon, too soon, Mulder lost control. Lost himself to the lightening in his veins, the heat that was inside Skinner. Slammed in and out. Skinner's moans played around his ears, entered his soul. Mulder came with a cat-like yowl. Dissolved into the thundering of blood through his veins and into Skinner.

Moments later, when conscious thought returned, and Mulder found himself collapsed on top of Skinner, he realised that his belly was dry, that Skinner's cock was trapped, still rampant, between their bodies. He slid his hand between them and touched the soft velvet foreskin.

"Ahhh." Skinner sobbed wordlessly. His hips thrust upwards into Mulder's hand. Needing, wanting release.

"Too fast, lover?" Mulder got to his knees, forcing obedience from wobbly, recalcitrant muscles. "Sorry 'bout that." He removed the condom, stood up carefully and went to the sink outside the bathroom, dropping the condom into the wastebasket on his way. He grabbed a washcloth and rinsed it in warm water. Returning to the bed, Mulder deftly wrapped one hand around Skinner's cock. Pumped up and down, distracting Skinner while his other hand wielded the damp cloth. He twirled and teased, sliding the cloth around, arousing, seducing. When Skinner's ass was clean, pink, Mulder tossed the cloth at the sink and returned his attention to Skinner. He pumped Skinner's cock once again. Ran his hand down to the bottom. Squeezed slightly. Smiled with satisfaction at the immediate reaction.

Heat engulfed Skinner's cock then disappeared. A tongue laved a damp trail up and down and around the base. At some basic level, he knew it was Mulder, had to be Mulder, but he could only feel the heat, the almost painful ecstasy as his balls tightened. So close. He could see the edge. Wanted to drop over the other side. His hands gripped the covers, oblivious to the sharp sound when over-washed fabric ripped beneath his fingers. All Skinner knew was heat and damp. His hips thrust helplessly, fucking Mulder's mouth. Teeth grazing soft skin as he moved in and out. Tongue occasionally teasing the tiny opening in the tip. Skinner pushed harder, deeper, faster. Eyes closed, red filmed his inner vision, as orgasm shuddered through him, ripping away all semblance of control. Again and again, he spasmed against the back of Mulder's throat. Unaware, he called out Mulder's name, yelled "Fox" in a long, drawn out syllable.

Mulder shoved away the pillow under Skinner's hips and curled up against him. They lay, entwined, lost in the afterglow, enjoying the simple pleasure of being naked together. Until Skinner's stomach growled and Mulder's did the same. "I'm hungry," Mulder complained.

"Me too." Skinner sat up and fumbled for his glasses on the side table.  
"What happened to all that food you brought?"

"Still here." Mulder mumbled around a mouthful of bread. He picked up the bunch of grapes and dangled them over Skinner's mouth, grinning when Skinner snapped one away.

"More." Skinner tried to grab the grapes away from Mulder. "I need more than that if I'm going to survive until morning."

"Bread and cheese?" Mulder picked up the cold piece of chicken and waved it at Skinner. "Or a little grease perhaps?"

Skinner ignored him and reached for the bread. They jostled each other like children, as they rapidly ate everything Mulder had brought. Except the piece of chicken. With a snort of disgust, Skinner dropped that back into the bucket with the crumbs and wrappings.

The lights finally off, Mulder curled up and Skinner wrapped his body around him. Experience had already taught them this was the only way they could sleep in this bed without their feet dangling over the end.

* * * * *

His feet were cold and it was quiet. Far quieter than it had been all night long. So quiet, in fact, that Skinner found himself waking up. And wasn't surprised to discover he was alone in the bed. No wonder his feet were cold. Without Mulder to wrap himself around, he'd stretched out and his feet had poked their way free of the blanket.

Skinner slitted an eye open in the general direction of the bedside table, but was unable to find a clock. Sitting up, he reached for his glasses and attempted to get himself oriented. The sound of the shower starting made him smile.

Time for some fun before heading to work. He stood and headed into the bathroom, stopping to grab the large bath sized towels from his bag on his way. Experience had taught him that the towels this place supplied weren't large enough to be of any use.

Luckily, this room, unlike some others he'd been in, had a full bathtub, with room for two. Skinner headed for the tub, and pulled the curtain back.

"I was wondering what was keeping you," Mulder grinned, looking up at Skinner, who stared down in mock horror at the sight before him. "I figured it would be easier to get the soap out of my hair this way," he continued to shampoo his hair, while on his knees on the bottom of the tub.

Skinner had to admit he had a point. The shower head was awfully low. "I'm not doing that," the older man stated categorically as he climbed in and joined Mulder. "I'm not sure my knees could take it."

Mulder, having successfully managed to get the shampoo out of his hair, stood up and reached around Skinner for the soap. "Come on, it works and it's fun. Besides, it's not like you have that much hair to rinse. It won't take that long."

Skinner grumbled, but allowed himself to be soaped up, gradually giving in to the feeling of being touched, and trying desperately not to think about the fact that this visit was almost over. Maybe Mulder had a point, he thought, glancing down at the shower mat and considering what he could do if he were down there.

That did it.

Skinner dropped to his knees, allowing Mulder easier access to his head, and reached up to play with Mulder's cock. Got a surprised yelp for his trouble, but noted that the other man continued to rub his scalp, and didn't say _stop_.

Which was good, because Skinner had no intention of stopping. One hand played with Mulder's balls, the other helped guide his penis into his mouth. He licked the head, squeezed gently with his fingers and felt the organ lengthen. Allowing the water showering down on him to assist his play, Skinner rubbed and nuzzled up against Mulder's groin, the sensation of wet skin against his stubbled face almost overwhelming him.

Doing this in the shower meant he didn't have to be concerned with pleasantries, so he abandoned himself to the task, losing himself in the feeling of water rushing over his head and the responsiveness of the body in front of him. Skinner soon found his head being held in place by Mulder's no longer massaging hands while the other man moved his hips forcefully. Skinner's hands grasped Mulder's hips hard enough to bruise, assisting them both in keeping their balance, as Mulder's movements became less controlled and he fucked Skinner's mouth ruthlessly.

Mulder closed his eyes against the spray. He thrust harder and harder, giving himself over to the pounding water, the warmth of Skinner's lips, the flickering of his tongue. Over and over until, finally, he exploded into Skinner's mouth with an unvoiced yell. Between the force of his orgasm and the water pouring over him from the shower, Mulder didn't even notice that Skinner hadn't swallowed.

"Good morning," Mulder mumbled as he caught his breath and helped Skinner to his feet. He smiled and then chuckled, "Guess your knees aren't so old after all."

"Guess not." Skinner crouched and turned his head under the shower, opening his mouth and letting the water rinse out the last of Mulder's semen. He rinsed the remaining lather off rapidly, then stood up with a stifled groan. "On the other hand, they're not that young either. I brought towels." He stole a kiss from Mulder and stepped out of the shower.

"Bath towels. Oh boy. Have I told you lately how much I love you." Mulder turned off the water and flung back the shower curtain.

* * * * *

The two men bustled about the sink finishing off their morning preparations with the efficiency borne of many mornings negotiating a small space together. The only noise to be heard was the sound of aerosol cans, razor blades against skin and finally the sound of towels rubbing hair and faces dry.

At some point, amidst tossing wrinkled clothes into an overnight bag and gathering up the loose ends of the previous evening, Skinner noticed that the envelope containing the photographs that had been the ostensible excuse for this meeting was still sitting, undisturbed, on the dresser in the main room.

His bag packed, all evidence of his presence removed from the room, Skinner prepared to leave for the office. He glanced back as walked out the door, looking through the crack as the door slid closed.

There Mulder stood, looking at the photographs, an almost wistful expression on his face. As Skinner watched, he carefully placed the pictures back in the envelope and slid them into his case.

Skinner knew who the man was in those pictures. In spite of having been assured he was dead, it hadn't particularly surprised him to see him standing upright on a residential street in Arlington, nearly a year after his supposed demise. The younger woman looked familiar, but he wasn't exactly sure why.

He hadn't asked Mulder to identify her either. Nor had he asked him why he'd been so certain the other man was still alive. When he was ready to, he'd share. In the course of their odd association, he had learned when to push and when to leave be.

This was a time to leave be.

~finis~


End file.
